


so tell me how long, love, before you go, and leave me here on my own

by PotofCoffee



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, F/F, Not A Fix-It, fluff?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-17 01:17:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13066116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PotofCoffee/pseuds/PotofCoffee
Summary: In which Amilyn’s hair is newly purple, the resistance readies itself for the fight ahead, and Leia lets herself feel more than she knows she should.





	so tell me how long, love, before you go, and leave me here on my own

**Author's Note:**

> I watched tlj twice in three days and accidentally fell head first into a new otp and then ofc had to write something immediately cause that's who I am as a person now.
> 
> Set sort of nebulously between tfa and tlj in that I assume there was a few weeks between those two films?
> 
> title is from agape by bear's den and you should go listen to that song cause it works super well for this ship.

She’s dyed her hair a new colour; that’s the first thing Leia notices. She’s dyed her hair a new colour and it makes Leia smile and that is rare enough these days with all that’s happened and all she can guess is about to happen.

“General,” she says, a little wooden, much too formal. Leia laughs.

“How long has it been since you stopped calling me by a title, Amilyn?” she asks. “Especially when we’re alone.” It’s late enough in the day that the conference room they’re standing in is empty, everyone off at the mess hall eating dinner, and Leia’s glad of that, glad that it’s just them. Amilyn blushes at the words, prettily, Leia notices, and immediately wishes she didn’t. It’s not the time for such things, not here on D’Qar with the First Order breathing down their necks.

“How are you?” Amilyn asks then, reaching out to brush Leia’s elbow. Her tone is matter of fact, normal even, and Leia’s glad for the lack of overwrought sympathy that has tinged every word said to her since Han’s death.

“I’m fine,” she says. Because she is; she has to be. “Busy. How are you? How long will it take for the _Ninka_ to refuel?” _How long will you be here?_ she means to ask. _How long can I have the comfort of your company?_

“Refuelling won’t take long,” Amilyn replies, “but we’ll be here for a couple days. I wanted to give the crew a break, let them see their loved ones and have a rest before we head back out.” She takes a step closer as she speaks, close enough that Leia can feel the heat emanating off of her body, and Leia wonders if she’s imagining the slight hitch in her voice at the words ‘loved ones’.

“That will be nice,” Leia says, her eyes flitting from Amilyn’s hair to her shoulders to her waist until she finally lets herself make eye contact. Amilyn is smiling warmly, the corners of her eyes crinkling and Leia feels comfort and relief wash over her at the sight.

“How are you feeling?” she asks, quiet, serene.

“You already asked me that,” Leia replies.

“No, no. I asked how you were, now I’m asking how you feel. There’s a difference, we both know that.”

“Tired,” Leia admits with a sigh. “We’ve lost so many people recently, I don’t know how we can keep going.”

“It’s hard,” Amilyn agrees, “every loss is like a blow, I feel it too, but we will make it, Leia. We will be the spark that is needed, we will take the First Order down.”

“All we need is hope,” Leia says, nodding. Hope. An eternal flame, waning for her now more than it ever has, but still there. “But my dear old friend I’m finding that harder and harder to hold on to.”

“A very wise woman once told me that hope is like the sun,” Amilyn says. “If you only believe it when you see it…”

“Wise, eh?” Leia replies with a wry grin, “you’re sure about that?”

“Now, more than ever,” she makes like she’s about to reach out to Leia again, but she lets her hand fall back, “we will survive the night, Leia, I know it.”

Leia reaches a hand out and cups Amilyn’s cheek before she can question whether or not she should, murmurs her thanks and cherishes the way Amilyn smiles in response.

They eat their evening meal together in the mess hall before parting ways, bidding the other farewell and making their way to their respective quarters. Leia lies awake in bed a long time, staring up at the ceiling and thinking about Amilyn. She still inspires that same funny feeling in Leia’s stomach that she’s inspired for years, decades even. A feeling Leia can remember not understanding at first, questioning it constantly until it became as familiar as the feeling of the force flowing through her. They’re older now, greyer, but the feeling is still there—stronger than ever. It’s complicated now, however, more complicated than it was even a year, even six months ago. Then Leia was happy to let the flirtation run its course, glad to have that rosy tinge of attraction colour the edges of her life without thinking too much of the wisdom behind it. Now, with all that she’s been through, it seems more dire, more important. At once both necessary to and impossible to ignore.

She needs to concentrate on her role as leader, on the resistance and their fight, not on a dalliance, even one as long in the making as this. Still, she thinks, what’s the point of their fight if not for freedom and love?

She feels guilt too, now. Guilt that she should be thinking of this, feeling like this, when Han is dead and gone. Guilt because she has lost the man she loved for most of her life and yet her life has gone on, must go on, with little time to mourn him. Guilt because she is getting much too good at losing people, at moving on.

She sleeps fitfully and in the morning she steps outside to find Amilyn seated on a supply box at her favourite place in the whole base. For a moment she thinks of asking how Amilyn knew to be here, knew that this was her favourite place, but it’s Amilyn, it’s her friend and her confidante and a woman who has been at her side since they were teenagers and so the question doesn’t bear asking. Amilyn knows Leia, better than almost anyone.

“Good morning,” Leia says softly, lays a tentative hand on Amilyn’s shoulder.

“Good morning,” Amilyn replies, covering Leia’s hand with her own. “Busy day ahead?”

“No,” Leia’s happy to admit, “not really.” She watches Amilyn smile wider at that and there’s that golden warmth, that funny feeling again except now it’s gone past just her stomach to take over her whole being.

“Care to join me for a walk?” Amilyn offers. “I wanted to take a look at the whole compound. I’d love a guide.”

Leia happily assents.

They stroll around the base, discussing successes and failures and what’s to come, walking close enough that their hands are brushing constantly though neither makes the move to clasp the other’s hand in theirs. Not here, Leia thinks, not where everyone can see them, as much as she wants to be holding Amilyn’s hand, here and everywhere.

“We’re in the midst of preparing for an evacuation,” she says as they walk past groups of people hard at work. “It won’t be long before the First Order finds us.”

“The fleet will be ready,” Amilyn replies, “we’ll survive, we’ll make it somewhere new.”

“We always do,” Leia says and tries to believe it as much as she used to.

They pause by the edge of the furthest structure, stare out at the horizon, bright green growth and light grey clouds as far as the eye can see.

“I can’t imagine how hard it was for you, to lose Han,” Amilyn says, simple and honest, brushing Leila’s knuckles with her own.

“I-” Leia sighs. “We weren’t- I mean, we hadn’t been… for quite some time.”

“Mmm,” Amilyn makes a sound deep in her throat not quite of agreement. “Still.”

“Maybe he wasn’t mine to lose,” Leia says softly, and it feels strange to voice the thoughts that dwell with her late at night, the thoughts she’s always thought she should keep to herself, “maybe I really lost him years ago.”

“No,” Amilyn says, as matter of fact as ever. “No I don’t think that’s true at all. He was always with you, Leia, we both know that,” she pauses, turns to Leia and gives her a long look, “still is, I’d wager.”

“I still feel him,” Leia admits quietly, to herself as much as to Amilyn. “Like a presence in the force in a way, even though that doesn’t really make any sense now does it?”

“It does,” Amilyn says. She pauses, then continues, “he’s proud of you Leia, I know that. Proud of all the work you’ve done here.”

Leia wants to wrap herself in the comfort of those words and stay like that forever. She wants this moment to last a lifetime. She wants Amilyn at her side forever, speaking every truth that Leia needs to hear. She settles for reaching her fingers out to clasp Amilyn’s, squeezing hard for a moment and then letting go.

“Well,” she says, trying to ignore the odd gruffness in her voice, “I do have some work I need to get back to.”

Amilyn lets her go with a smile that stays with Leia the rest of the morning.

Late in the day Amilyn finds Leia in a side room working away. She leans close over her shoulder, reading the plans at Leia’s fingertips and Leia leans back just a fraction, leans back into the warmth and delights in the feeling of Amilyn’s breath ghosting over her cheek.

“Doomsday scenarios?” Amilyn asks and Leia stiffens immediately.

“Contingency plans,” she replies, the barest hint of steel seeping into her tone.

“Of course,” Amilyn says, taking a seat beside her, the apology implicit and unnecessary. “Why don’t you tell me about them?”

They work through them, one by one, looking at fleet maps and star charts, discussing what they will do, discussing all the worst case scenarios that leaders must think of and plan for. What will they do if there are only five hundred of them left? Two hundred? One hundred? Fifty?

It hurts her heart to think of it, but Leia knows that this is a possibility. They are fighting a war against an enemy who outmans and outguns them at every turn. There will be losses—there have always been losses but they weigh heavier and heavier on her heart with each passing day. She is grateful to have Amilyn here, beside her. Grateful for her calm voice and cool head and the knee she is pressing against Leia’s leg under the table. Grateful that today, here, now, she does not have to be alone.

When they are done she lets Amilyn cajole her into eating even though that’s the last thing she feels like doing.

“We can’t have the general fainting on the job,” Amilyn says with a wink and Leia just has to smile.

After they have eaten they go outside again, take another walk around the base. It’s full dark and the sky has cleared and they are able to see the stars above them clear and bright. They stare up at them, point out their favourites, and in the shadow of darkness Leia slips her hand into Amilyn’s and holds on tight.

Amilyn waits until they’re in Leia’s quarters with the door closed behind them to kiss her. It’s soft at first, just a brush of her lips against Leia’s, but it’s perfect and wondrous and Leia only wants more, can only wonder how and why it took so long to get to this moment.

She has to stand on the tips of her toes to deepen the kiss, has to slide a hand into Amilyn’s pale purple hair and pull her down towards her, but thankfully Amilyn is happy to oblige, happy to lean in, to slide a hand along Leia’s waist, happy to lick into Leia’s mouth, and Leia feels her knees weaken at the touch of Amilyn’s tongue against hers. She puts her spare hand against the wall for support as she leans in and up, needing more and more of this, immediately insatiable from the first moment she felt Amilyn’s lips against hers.

She takes Amilyn by the hand and leads her to her bed, undresses her slowly and kisses the skin made bare before her. Amilyn responds in kind, touching and caressing and kissing by turn, pulling Leia in close and holding her tight and Leia thinks about how the moment is perfect in every aspect but for the fact that it must inevitably end.

Amilyn offers Leia comfort and love and a release Leia didn’t know she needed until it comes, washing over her, sudden and strong. As soon as she has caught her breath, Leia works to give the same to Amilyn, marvelling at the softness of her skin as she pulls her close, teasing and stroking and giving unto her with her touch everything she has not been able to say with words.

It feels like hope, the two of them here together. It feels like a benediction whispered between their bodies, held close and cherished, and Leia knows that feeling will stay with her long after this night is gone.

She lies in Amilyn’s arms, pillows her head on her chest, listens to her heartbeat as Amilyn runs her hands through Leia’s hair.

She leans up, reaches out and tugs at one of the curls framing Amilyn’s face.

“I like the purple,” she says quietly, “it suits you.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Amilyn murmurs as if by instinct more than anything else. She’s been saying that to Leia forever, every time she made any comment about her hair, and the familiarity of it is so warm, so comforting that Leia can’t help but smile. “I like the grey,” Amilyn says then, touching the streaks at Leia’s temple. “Very distinguished,” she leans in and kisses her, “very sexy.”

“I remind Commander Dameron on a regular basis that he’s responsible for at least half of them,” Leia says with a wry smile.

“I’m sad he’s away on a mission,” Amilyn says, “I was hoping to finally meet him.”

“Unless your opinion on flyboys has changed recently I don’t know how much you’ll like him,” Leia says, running her fingers gently along Amilyn’s jaw.

“You like him though,” she replies, “that’s good enough for me.”

Leia smiles, kisses her long and deep before rearranging herself again, returning her head to Amilyn’s chest, grabbing her free hand and twining their fingers together, happy to simply be here with her, wanting to touch as much of her at once as she can.

“I’ve been dreaming about Luke,” she says finally, not really sure if Amilyn’s even awake to hear her words, not sure if she’s even speaking loudly enough to be heard.

“Hmm?” Amilyn hums a query, an encouragement.

“He gives me advice,” she continues, “about big things and little things, about life and about the resistance.” _About you_ , she almost says. “It’s always just me and him, sitting in Han’s old hunk of flying space junk like we’re nineteen again, full of passion and energy.” She stops and focuses on their breathing, on matching hers to Amilyn’s, and appreciates how she doesn’t say anything, doesn’t urge her on but just waits for Leia to be ready. She’s always been willing to wait until Leia’s ready. “I don’t know if it’s really him, as much as I want it to be, I can’t feel him when he’s awake, I think he’s cut himself off from me,” the words hurt less than she thought they would, said aloud, “but it feels like him. It feels like he’s there.”

“It is him,” Amilyn says, as sure in this as she is in everything else and Leia cannot help but love her more for it.

“But how do I know that?” she presses.

“It doesn’t matter how, exactly, Leia. If it’s him now or merely the vestiges of him, conscious or subconscious, it’s his way of being with you. Cherish that, cherish the connection. That’s what matters, at the end of the day. Our strength has always been in unity.”

“And you call me the wise one,” Leia says, smiling into Amilyn’s chest.

“I learned from the best,” she replies, wrapping her arm around Leia’s shoulders and holding her close.

They fall asleep like that, in each other’s arms, warm and secure. Leia wakes in the pale grey of early dawn feeling more rested than she has in weeks. She stays still until she feels Amilyn move, and then she pulls away from her embrace, just far enough that she can cup her cheek in her hand and kiss her lips and resolutely wish that this never had to end. Amilyn is happy to kiss her back, to run one hand through her hair and use the other to pull her close and Leia dreams of a day when she could wake every morning to those bright blue eyes and that kind loving smile.

Later she will bid Amilyn goodbye in front of everyone, clasp her hand and wish the force to be with her, but here in this dimly lit room she is free to bare her soul, to speak with an honesty that cannot be shared with anyone else. She places an open-mouthed kiss on Amilyn’s shoulder, kisses a path along her collarbones and up her throat, places a final kiss just under her jaw before she speaks.

“Take care of yourself out there,” she murmurs against her skin. _I can’t lose another one_ she wants to say. _I can’t lose you too_.

“I will,” Amilyn says, quietly resolute, leans in to kiss Leia on the cheek. “I will.” _I will come home_ , hangs unspoken in the air between them. _I will come back to you_.

For a moment, a fraction longer than a second, Leia almost believes her.


End file.
